Looking out of the window now hoping to see Ruth returning with baby Thelma, she silently prayed that she wouldn’t see the rent collector advancing with his accounts book under his arm. There was more than two weeks to go before his scheduled visit but she was many months in arrears. Though she was constantly on edge looking out for the man, she was spared the knowledge that history was about to repeat itself. She had been too young to remember that she had once been playing happily on the floor of this house while her mother had been in the same dire straits as she now was.
Seeing Ruth and Thelma coming back, she was heartened to see that her friend was carrying a small sack in one hand. This meant that Dr Mawby, Reverend Worther, or some other kind person who was aware of their plight, had given Ruth some food. Arabella was thankful for this even though it meant that they would only have something to eat in the next few hours. That wasn’t much comfort but she had long ago learned not to look any further forward than half a day.
Having booked a double room for the night in the Greyhound Inn, they sat together eating bread and cheese and drinking ale in the quietest corner of the bar. The place was crowded, mainly by travelling folk. Lancer recognized many of them as those Buckingham Joe and he had passed along the road into Salisbury. Some of them seemed to know the highwayman and exchanged a wave with him. It was plain to Lancer that this recognition pleased his friend greatly. They were a part of a community here that wasn’t alienated by the way he earned a living.
That knowledge increased Lancer’s regret that, out of necessity, he would have to spoil this evening to some extent for Buckingham Joe. Though he knew that he must do so, Lancer was reluctant to bring up the subject of the very real threat to his friend that he had learned of while in Dorchester Prison. He knew just how dangerous and insecure a highwayman’s life was. In addition to having to watch out for the law he was also in danger of being betrayed by fellow robbers. There was no honour among thieves on the by-ways and highways of England. Lancer shrank from burdening his friend with more worry. He decided to postpone mention of the Kentish Hero until after they had finished their food. That way Buckingham Joe would at least be able to enjoy a part of the evening.
When that time came he had to force himself to introduce the topic. At last he made the effort in a conversational way that made what he was saying appear to be small talk. ‘I should mention that the Kentish Hero was in Dorchester Prison at the same time as I was, Joseph.’
Hearing this brought a slight but significant change to his friend: a perceptible tensing of Joseph’s body. Lancer anxiously awaited a response.
‘It seems that you consider this would be of concern to me, Joby,’ the highwayman remarked.
‘It bothered me that he was making discreet enquiries about you.’
‘Do you know what it was about?’
‘No, but it seemed to me to be important, Joseph. I suppose it was intuition more than anything.’
‘You had it right,’ Buckingham Joe admitted. ‘I should explain that my financial circumstances at the time, but above all my stupidity, forced me join the Kentish Hero in a robbery down in Devon, even though I knew well that he couldn’t be trusted. He went too far and clobbered the mark over the head with an iron bar, killing him. We both went our separate ways afterwards. I got out of the county real quick but I later heard that he lingered in Devon for a while. He was pulled in by the law, but told a good tale, backed up by a lying testimony from Nancy Locke, a seller of lace I had once spent some time with. We parted acrimoniously, and no doubt she lied to get back at me.’
‘And it worked?’ Lancer checked.
‘It did. As he was no longer a suspect, the Hero was freed. It is logical that he is planning to set me up and thereby clear himself of the murder completely. This possibility has been haunting me for a very long time, Joby. If he should be successful then I will be facing the long drop.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Lancer said. ‘We are friends, Joseph, and I can now afford to think about setting myself up in business and I could do with an educated, intelligent partner like you.’
‘I appreciate your consideration for me, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than joining you in a business; but I am convinced that it is out of the question, Joby.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘When I took up my career, for want of a more descriptive word, on the road, it was tantamount to joining one of those secret societies, that once you are in, won’t let you out.’
‘I still don’t follow you,’ Lancer said, still trying to help his friend.
‘It is simple. I have led a dishonest life, just as the wealthy lead dishonest lives assisted by those who run the country, who are also dishonest. They have taken much more than they have a right to from a society that has made laws that favour the haves and mercilessly persecute the have-nots. In my time I have robbed the gentry of a considerable amount of money, and I will never be forgiven. They will hunt me down regardless of how long it takes. One day I would be your business partner, the next I’ll be dangling from the gallows on a rope.’
Their conversation had reached an impasse that was relieved for Lancer when a dark-skinned man began squeezing a concertina and another man tucked a violin under his chin and waved the bow. They warmed up by making discordant sounds with their instruments that gradually turned into a pleasant hum. A travelling woman with long, jet-black hair pulled back and tied with a blue ribbon walked over to stand by the musicians. She had a strong-featured face and held herself in a proud stance.
The concertina and violin expertly struck up a melody. The black-haired woman straightened up, waiting for a cue from the music, and then started to sing Home Sweet Home in a voice that had angels in it. The rumble of general conversation instantly switched off, leaving the music and the beautifully sung song as the only sounds in the room.
An old woman sitting close to Lancer leaned to her companion to remark, ‘That Lucy Hughes has a marvellous voice.’
Lancer couldn’t have agreed more. Sitting entranced by the singer and the song, the females of his past romantic liaisons did an abridged and blurred rerun in his head. Then that distant history was replaced vividly by Arabella, Sarai Adams and Nancy Owens drifting separately and tantalizingly through his mind. He was awakened from his half-dream by the concertina player’s shout as the vocalist reached the end of her song.
‘Now let the dancing begin,’ the musician called.
It surprised and delighted Lancer when, as a catchy dance tune was struck up and dancers moved out to the centre of the room, Buckingham Joe suddenly returned to being his usual high-spirited self. Standing up, a wide smile on his face, he patted Lancer on the shoulder.
‘Please excuse me for a short while, Joby,’ he said politely, ‘but there is a lady over there whom I simply must dance with.’
Losing sight of Buckingham Joe as he merged into the crowd, Lancer then saw him smiling happily as he danced with Lucy Hughes. Then his attention was drawn to a man who was standing with his back to a wall watching the dancers. What made him stand out first was his clothing. There was a mediocre sameness about way the rest of the gathering was dressed but he was too smart. The man standing alone was expensively clad in a bronze-coloured coat, burgundy waistcoat, corduroy breeches, earth-yellow stockings and calf-length boots.
Though he tried to give the impression that he had a general interest in watching the dancers, the man couldn’t fool Lancer’s keen powers of observation. He was in no doubt that the well-dressed man’s attention was focused on Buckingham Joe. He had to be a representative of the law, and being able to afford the sort of clothing he was wearing meant that he was of a rank well above a constable.
The dance ended and Buckingham Joe was heading back to Lancer with Lucy Hughes at his side. Lancer divided his observation between Buckingham Joe and the lawman, who furtively kept the highwayman under surveillance. It was a scene that didn’t bode well for Buckingham Joe.
‘This is Luc
y, Joby,’ Buckingham Joe introduced his new friend. ‘Lucy, this is my good friend, Joby Lancer.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Lucy,’ Lancer said, as he stood to pull a chair across for her. ‘I enjoyed your singing.’
‘Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,’ she replied with a charming smile as she sat down.
Compared to most women he had met in his short time on the road, she was a nice-looking, elegant lady. He enquired, ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘May I have a red-wine?’
‘Of course.’
Lancer went to the bar to order Lucy’s drink and refill Buckingham Joe and his glasses. Bringing them back through the crowd he made a slight detour to pass close by the man whose presence worried him. This closer look did nothing to diminish his unease about the man. Placing the glasses on the table he got a welcoming smile from both Lucy Hughes and Buckingham Joe.
‘Lucy is staying at Mary Blanning’s for a few days while she’s working this part of Salisbury,’ Buckingham Joe said as Lancer sat down.
‘What business are you in?’ Lancer enquired, not interested but out of politeness.
‘This and that. Nankeen mostly, sometimes lace or lavender when it’s in season,’ Lucy informed Lancer. ‘I also do dukkerin.’
‘Telling fortunes,’ Buckingham Joe translated the Romany word for Lancer.
‘I could give you a reading, sir,’ Lucy said, as she reached for Lancer’s hand.
‘I have never really believed in that sort thing.’
‘In all modesty, I have a real gift.’
Lancer tried a different deterrent. ‘I would have to cross your hand with silver.’
‘That isn’t so in your case,’ she disagreed. Grasping his right wrist she turned the hand palm up.
Studying his hand without speaking for some time, she then began to speak as she slowly traced a line on his palm with and index finger. Uninterested, Lance wasn’t listening but was looking around, seeking the well-dressed man. Then he saw him at the far end of the in animated conversation two other men who were obviously colleagues of his and not travellers. Fear for Buckingham Joe gripped him but was defeated by shock as he caught the words Lucy Hughes was saying.
‘… this broken line here shows that recently, or perhaps I should say fairly recently, you survived death in miraculous circumstances. Since that time the line has become stronger, which means that you will live a long and healthy life.’
Shaken by her knowledge of him, and deciding that Buckingham Joe must have told her about him while they were dancing, Lancer tried to catch her out by saying, ‘That can’t be right. I had a medical examination not long ago and was warned that I was suffering from an incurable illness.’
‘That isn’t correct. You must get another opinion,’ she informed him confidently. Then she continued, frightening him with the accuracy of what she said. ‘Just a moment … that was an army doctor who examined you, and he told you nothing of the sort. If you have it in mind to lie to me again, then I will go no further.’
‘I apologize, and promise not to doubt you again,’ Lancer declared.
Lucy accepted his assurance with a nod before going on, ‘You were examined by an army doctor because you were then in the army but are no longer so. You served and faced great danger in many foreign countries. Before what has been described as your incredible escape from death you were wrongly accused of desertion or something like that. However, that is all behind you now.’
‘Everything you have said so far is behind him, Lucy,’ Buckingham Joe pointed out. ‘Joby would rather learn his future.’
‘Please don’t interrupt, Joseph,’ she chided the highwayman. ‘Much of the future is determined by the past.’ She returned to studying Lancer’s hand. ‘You have been something of a lady’s man in the distant past, Joby. But since you avoided death you have matured and now there are only three women in your life, two or them were your lovers, but one of them is now dead to the world but not to you.’
‘Your knowledge of my life has more than impressed me, especially your reference to my women companions. In fact, with you sitting so close and holding my hand, I have the urge to add you to the remaining short list,’ Lancer remarked jokingly to hide the fact that he was serious. But she raised her eyes to look into his, a serious expression on her face.
‘I know that,’ she told him. ‘I warn you that you would be unwise to do so.’
‘You have just spoiled my evening, Lucy,’ Lancer complained.
‘Which must be preferable to spoiling your life, Joby?’
‘Let us discuss that some other time. What of these two women?’
‘You want to know which one is the right one for you.’
‘That would be useful.’
‘You have been out of touch with both of them for some time, the younger one longer than the older, so at this time the choice is yours. You will be in contact with them both soon. Come to see me then and I will be able to help you make your choice.’
‘Where will I find you?’
‘Along the road somewhere,’ was the vague and disappointing answer that she gave him.
Buckingham Joe broke the spell that Lucy had cast on Lancer by saying, ‘It’s my turn now.’
He presented his hand palm upwards to Lucy. ‘Don’t go into my past, it’s too sordid. Just concentrate on my future.’
Free to look around now, Lancer searched the crowd for the three men without success. Concerned by what their disappearance might mean to Buckingham Joe’s safety, he was startled suddenly to hear a distressed exclamation from Lucy Hughes.
‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’
As she had spoken, Lucy had released the hand of Buckingham Joe, who asked, ‘Why not?’
Lucy struggled with a reply. ‘I don’t know … it’s just that … it’s just… At times like this I suddenly just lose the ability to read a palm.’
Lancer didn’t accept this garbled answer as genuine. He noticed that Buckingham Joe appeared to be as mystified as he was. In fact, the highwayman seemed distressed by Lucy’s failure to read his palm.
Passing his friend some coins, careful to ensure that Lucy didn’t see the transaction, Lancer said. ‘Go and get us some more drinks, Joseph. Maybe Lucy’s powers will have returned by the time you get back.’
‘I wish you hadn’t said that, Joby,’ Lucy said sadly when Buckingham Joe was out of earshot.
‘Why, Lucy? Surely it’s possible that whatever is stopping you from doing Joseph’s reading is only temporary.’
Close to tears, Lucy moaned, ‘You don’t understand, Joby. It’s not that I can’t read his hand. I have good reason not to want to.’
What was happening came together in Lancer’s mind. Lucy’s refusal to tell Buckingham Joe’s fortune, the menace that was the Kentish Hero, linked up with the three men who had earlier been loitering in the Inn. Recognizing the connection plunged Lancer into a depressed state that he had to fight to conceal from Buckingham Joe when he returned with the drinks.
Apparently having forgotten his disappointment over the failed hand reading, Joseph was his usual sociable self. The possibility that he had diagnosed the problem and was overcoming it seemed very real to Lancer.
Twelve
THOUGH NEITHER BUCKINGHAM Joe nor Lancer had shown any outward sign of being affected by the distress caused Lucy by the sight of the highwayman’s palm, the evening didn’t end as pleasantly as it had begun. There was tension between Lucy and them from the moment she had turned down Buckingham Joe’s request for her to tell his fortune. There was no animosity in the atmosphere between them, just an uncomfortable awkwardness. When her friends called to her that they were leaving, Lucy welcomed the chance to get away.
‘I wouldn’t like you to leave without seeing you both again,’ she said to Joseph and Lancer before she left. ‘Would it be possible for us to meet in the morning?’
‘We would like that,’ Lancer replied although having serious doubts that Joseph and he
would still be in Salisbury at daybreak.
‘Shall we say at the Red Lion coffee-house at ten o’clock?’
‘That will suit us fine,’ Buckingham Joe agreed.
Giving both him and Lancer a kiss on the cheek, Lucy hurried away.
They watched her go with Lancer sure that Joseph was experiencing the same sense of loss as he was. Though always self-sufficient, in the kind of life that the highwayman and he had led, it was comforting to be in the company of someone who was friendly without any strings attached.
Commenting on Lucy’s hurried departure shortly afterwards when they were upstairs in their room, Buckingham Joe said, ‘There was something really worrying Lucy when she rushed off.’
Welcoming the chance to discuss what had happened in the bar, Lancer had tried to open up the subject by asking, ‘Don’t you know?’
‘I am not a fool, Joby. I do, of course, know, and I am certain that it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, it isn’t something that I want to talk about.’
Accepting this, Lancer half changed the subject by advising, ‘I wouldn’t take off anything but your boots when you get into bed, Joseph.’
Grinning at him, Buckingham Joe responded, ‘I knew that you saw them, too. That flashily dressed gent standing by the wall and then joined by the other two. The one standing by the wall was watching me the whole time, even though he thought that he was clever enough to do so without me noticing.’
‘It worried me to see him and the two others plotting together,’ Lancer mused. ‘Do you think they will make their move tonight?’
‘It’s possible, but it would be easier for them to jump me along the road somewhere. I have weighed up the situation here, Joby. Should they come here, at the far end of the landing there’s a small window that opens on a sliding roof that goes down to an alleyway. That’s the way I’ll go out, but you have no reason to run. They won’t be interested in you.’
The Toll of the Sea Page 19